I walked down the tree-lined dirt path in spring, new grass rising, the smell of cedar trees on the wind. The weather was warm and swallows flitted through the tree canopy above me. He fell in step behind me from out of the shadows, as if he had been waiting for me. It made me nervous. I thought of being taken against my will. His clothing was simple, nondescript, blacks and browns, from what I had seen as I rounded a bend in the path. He had a great mane of dark blond hair, a long, not-unpleasant face, with an aquiline nose and bow-shaped lips and a clean high brow. He was in some ways beautiful, and others terrible, and he had two large colorless moles at the lower left corner of his mouth. As he gained on me I paused, and turned to the tall thin stranger and said, "Please, go ahead," forcing a smile. I glanced at his face and found myself entranced, trying to decide whether he were beautiful or hideous.

He returned my smile, not unkindly, but with his lips only, and rather than step ahead of me and continue on the path, he took my arm and guided me a few steps into the tall grass and buttercups. The woods seemed to shrink away from him, and the shadows crept from huge maples, oaks, and firs to cover us. There were no ash trees in this part of the woods. I had only the faintest fear; his light warm hand on my arm did not pull so much as suggest, as a snake's body cannot be seen to glide effortlessly through reeds. I followed willingly, certainly like a sheep to its slaughter. My thoughts were blank.

"What are you doing?" I asked, feeling overwhelmed by innocence and confusion, and he smiled again with his lips. With his hand on my arm he placed my back against something which was not there (surely no tree would allow it) so I might not bolt through the woods, and we were still standing but gravity had ceased to exist. I did not feel dizzy, but I thought the ground was beneath my back, even though I could not see the cathedral spires of trees, and I know I stood. My feet and head felt numbed by venom.

Thinking he meant to seduce me, I sought reward, and brazenly asked, "What will you give me?" I immediately felt embarrassed, and ashamed that I might allow this stranger to know me without a fight. I lowered my eyes, and I felt intoxicated by the sweet dark scent of him, and the heady drone of bees in the buttercups at our feet. I felt myself ready to surrender or to run. My heart beat steadily, and I was very aware of the sounds of wind high above in the trees.

He restrained me by lacing his fingers of his left hand through mine, and with his right hand he pressed a small folded paper into my palm. "Tell him there's more," he finally spoke, his lips an inch from my ear, his voice sibilant and whispery, and his features turned ugly for a split-second. But then his mouth twisted itself into a beautiful wry smile that made his eyes blaze with an unearthly fire. I assumed he meant "him" to mean my husband, and my assumption was incorrect, but I thought whatever I did would be to benefit my spouse. Such was the sin.

He bent to kiss my cheek, a fair breathy brush, no more than a feather's touch, and said, "Do not be afraid." He reached up and traced the air around my face, softly, delicately brushing the hair from my eyes. I was not afraid, and I finally relaxed all vigilance, deciding whatever happened, I should enjoy it with this mysterious, charming, terrible stranger. The second I acquiesced, he dispappeared with a smell of brimstone, and I was left alone, shaking, in the darkening woods with a note from Babylon in my hand. All God's creatures were hushed in the woods, and the wind blew through the trees.



This dream I dreamt a few years ago and recorded in a journal. It was so vivid I remember waking up drenched in sweat, feeling as though I were holding a piece of paper.